The Life of Olivier Milla Armstrong
by Dailenna
Summary: Olivier doesn't get enough fanfiction, so here's a series of drabbles about her life from childhood to the present time. Cameos by our favourite military dogs from time to time.
1. Demoted to 'Princess'

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I thought that there weren't enough fics about Olivier Milla Armstrong out there, so I started writing some drabbles (hence a _quick_ summary). All chapters are strictly one-hundred words long, and are written sequentially, so even if Olivier isn't the same amount of days or months older in each drabble (some are written only minutes apart, some four or five years apart), she is older, rather than skipping all over the place. My last note is that these are all Olivier-centric, unless I've mentioned something in the chapter notes saying otherwise. Thank you for reading, and before I forget, there might be spoilers for the Briggs chapters of the manga, but those won't come in for a while yet. I'll give you all a heads up when spoilers might start coming in. Until then, it's all my speculation :)

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"**A Quick Summary of the Life of Olivier Milla Armstrong**" by **Dailenna**

**One: Demoted to 'Princess'**

As the first child, she had spent her initial few years in the world contently being spoilt. Her way was supreme, and there was no one to contest that. Her chubby pale cheeks and pouting pink lips had sent many a servant scurrying off for "Miss Olivier's teddy," or "a cup of juice for Miss Olivier."

She had been happy as the Queen of the Castle – the apple of Father's eye, and, even at two, displaying characteristics that he would chuckle over and say "She'll be a right chip off this old block."

That was, until her brother was born.


	2. Orders is Orders

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

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**Two: Orders is Orders**

Like any girl supplanted from her rightful throne, Olivier was not to be trifled with.

Mother's lilting voice changed its tone from "Of _course_ you may, Livvy," to "I'm with Alex now. You may ask one of the servants and they will fetch it."

But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted _Mother_ to ask the servants to get her Arrowroot biscuits for her. And whose fault was this, for making Mother ignore her? That unassuming usurper Alex, with his curly blonde hair and his gurgling laughter. Make them ignore her, would he? Well, she'd show him . . .


	3. An Indian NotSoBrave

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Three: An Indian Not-So-Brave**

A shriek echoed from the hallway into Olivier's room. She herself was already awake, having purposefully neglected to pull the bell that called the attendants. She had been dreading that shriek.

She heard the doors burst open, and after a suffocating pause, her bed sheets were flung back to expose her hiding place – no; her tactical retreat – and Mother's panicked hands grasped her firmly, but gently, running deftly through her hair. A moment passed in which Olivier thought for certain that she would be killed, but for now she was safe. Until it was discovered that she was the culprit.


	4. Head Wounds Bleed Too Much

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Four: Head Wounds Bleed Too Much**

It took some explaining both on her part, and on that of her parents to help the doctor understand why Alex's hair follicles had received such a trauma that the only patch to still allow for stimulation was on the centre of his forehead.

Explaining it to her parents the first time had been worse, specifically because the evidence led to no other conclusion when the bloody pair of scissors had been found with her crayons. All it took was one sentence to have her grounded until she was fifteen.

"Boys aren't supposed to have prettier hair than their sisters."


	5. What an Angry Child You've Got There!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Five: "What an Angry Child You've Got There!"**

If she wasn't Queen of the Castle anymore, she could still pass as Princess Olivier, and as such, she felt it her duty to make sure each and every one of her subjects could pronounce her name.

"Oh-liv-ee-er."

"Oh-yi-vah."

"No, s_joo_pid! _Ee_-er!"

"Ee-uh?"

"Ee-_er!_ Ee-_er! _Geddit right, or I'll hit you!" The hand was raised and ready, the face resolute and prepared, pouting lips were pouted, and blonde brow lowered.

Yet, all of this was no contest for the wobbling lips and watering eyes of one threatened Castle citizen. In less than a minute, the ungrateful Prince was whisked away.


	6. Moving Forward in the World

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Six: Moving Forwards in the World**

At the age of six, when tutoring kicked in and war-talk was allowed at the dinner-table (the big people's dinner table, not the one for _babies_), Olivier found her place in the family once again. The issue of nearly scalping her younger brother was set aside and 'forgotten', and Father began talk of weapons training beginning as soon as she knew how to hold one of the things.

"And Alex will follow in my footsteps and learn alchemy."

Pfff. Good for him. Alchemy sounded hard anyway. Let Olivier keep her daring, dashing, darling swords – Alex can have the stupid alchemy.


	7. A SelfSaving Damsel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Seven: A Self-Saving Damsel**

When she had chosen to wield a sword, Olivier had admired the deadly beauty in which it was made; blade, hilt and guard as one. She had taken in the fairy-tales of princes who galloped to the fair maiden's rescue, blade on their hip and feather in their hat, always wondering why said 'fair maiden' didn't protect her own integrity rather than waiting for some poncy man wearing tights and a tunic to do it for her. Olivier vowed that someday she would get trapped in a high tower purely so she could fight her way out on her own.


	8. Introduction of a Familiar Face

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Eight: Introduction of a Familiar Face**

"Livvy, you remember Daddy's friend Mr. Mustang and his son, Roy?"

Yes, the fellow with whom Father sat by the fire and regaled stories of combat and valour – and his black-haired little son, who'd poke Alex until the bald-blond-hybrid giggled, and who once tried to lift up Olivier's skirt because he wanted to know what she kept under there.

"Yes, I remember them, Mother."

"They're coming over for dinner tonight. Won't that be fun playing with little Roy again?"

Fun? Did she mean utter boredom? Because that's what it was, watching the toddler bumble around the Armstong Mansion.

"Yes, Mother."


	9. Intruder Alert!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Nine: Intruder Alert!**

"Don't touch that! Get off my bed! Stop picking up my chess pieces and go away. And wipe the marmalade off your hands - you made my bed all sticky! _NOOOOE!!_ _Don't_ wipe your hands on my curtains! They _were_ all clean before _you_ came! Go away and leave my toys alone! If you put so much as a little finger on Fuhrer Sparkles, I'm going to get my sword and hit you with it! Roy, I swear!"

"But Livvy, what _can_ I play with?"

"Nothing, okay?! Don't touch _anything_ of mine! Go play with Alex – he _likes_ babies like you!"


	10. Jealousy Strikes Again

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I had originally intended to release these at exctly the same time (a little earlier when I couldn't make my usual 4pm), but I keep having something else happening, and not quite making it. Argh - I'm too time based. I hate feeling late. So although I did fall asleep this afternoon (first time I've been _able_ to fall asleep in the afternoon in years), I'm still bringing this out now. My punctual mind required me to apologise for being late, even if you don't really mind. Ah well, here's the next drabble :)

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Ten: Jealousy Strikes Again **

It was bad enough having a brother with pretty hair – well, not anymore – but now, there was _that_ thing. That quiet, smiling, green-eyed, fluffy-haired _thing_.

From her eight-year-old height she could see clearly into its enclosure, over which Mother and Father currently hung.

"Isn't she _gorgeous_? Don't you think so, Livvy?"

"No."

Anxious glances were exchanged, and voices were hushed.

"_Sh-she doesn't have those scissors anymore, does she?_"

"_I'll have one of the servants check._"

Olivier tossed her head. "I can still hear you."

Two nervous grins emerged. "Of course you can, darling."

"_Let's check her room, just in case._"


	11. A Clairvoyant in the Making

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, I'm on roughly on time today. That's because I came on the computer to work on another project, and remembered this one. So here's the eleventh chapter. I had to cut a few lines out of the original version, because . . . well, because otherwise it would have been over one-hundred words, and I'm making them all just right! Since I keep getting distracted by the music I'm listening to ("Korobushko" by a band called Bond, for those who want to know), I'll just post the drabble.

**Eleven: A Clairvoyant in the Making**

"Livvy–"

"Olivier."

"Olivier?"

"_Yes_, Alex. What do you want?"

"Could you pass the beans?"

"Ask a servant. That's what their job is."

"You're closer."

She snorted, and turned to a liveried man. "Frederik, pass Alex the beans."

"Yes, Miss Olivier."

She watched in horror as her brother's plate was piled to the brim with green beans. "What on _earth_ do you need that many beans for?"

"Mother says they'll make me tall and strong," he beamed.

Olivier snorted again. Tall and strong. All this little ball of bones was going to be was short and fat – she _knew_ it.


	12. Take Cover!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Here we are! I had a bit of an issue with the title for this one, but I got it eventually, and as you can see, Olivier's getting to the age where she hates the nickname she's been given. Of course, she's always made sure people say her name right, but now she's becoming particular about what people can call her, too. That theme will be repeated in a few drabbles to come :D

**Twelve: Take Cover**

Today had been her day. The younger two siblings were out of sight, and out of mind; she had received back excellent marks from her tutor; and the man who taught her how to use her sword had asked to speak to her parents about letting her go up to the next stage, which most children didn't get to until they were ten. Nine-year-old Olivier was beside herself with joy.

"And not only that, Livvy–"

"Olivier."

"–_Livvy_, your father has Mr. Mustang coming over again."

She froze.

"And Roy's coming with him!"

Her day had just been ruined.


	13. The Storm Before the Storm

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Ha _ha!_ I thought I wouldn't be able to post this for another three hours, but here I am! Usually I'm at Uni for ten hours on Monday, so I wouldn't have been home in ages, but today one of my tutorials was moved forwards, and since I can get my last two lectures from the internet (and I had a car), there was really no point in waiting around that much longer for them. Besides, if I did wait, I'd have to walk all the way from the lecture theatre to the carpark, whch is about seven hundred metres, five hundred of which are very badly lit . . . and creepy. So I'm back before dark, and ready to post! Yaay!

**Thirteen: The Storm Before the Storm**

Mr. Mustang smiled as he came into the nursery and let the now five-year-old Roy wander around on his own.

"You must be very mature if your mother and father let you take care of the younger ones like this," he said admiringly, being the good aristocrat and not paying attention to the servants along the walls.

"Yes, Mr. Mustang," she said with a smile.

He left for the drawing room, and Olivier turned around only for her smile to drop instantly. "Put down Fuhrer Sparkles, or I really will hit you this time, Roy."

Roy stuck his tongue out.


	14. His First Assassination

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, hello again people! Here we finally have it! The one, the only, the miserable and morose - **Dailenna**'s version of the Fuhrer's death! Poor little Sparkles never did anything to Roy :(

**Fourteen: His First Assassination**

"Give him back!"

"Come get him!"

"I'm bigger than you!"

"I'm smarter!"

"I have a sword!"

"I have your teddy-bear."

"I _will_ hit you!"

"It's not a proper sword – it's made of wood."

"Doesn't mean it won't hurt!"

She leapt forwards, brandishing the weapon, and brought it down on Roy's left hand, which let go of Fuhrer Sparkles' arm. Olivier took a hold of her precious bear's body and tugged. Roy put both hands about the honourable Fuhrer's head and jerked back.

A rip sounded, and Olivier didn't know which was louder – the tearing of the teddy, or her heart.


	15. Childhood Lost

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Looky, I posted this early :3 Sure, only by three hours, but that's because I plan on being busy today. I think that within the next few days I should be able to finish up the Royai project that I've been working on for about eight or nine months! This is BIG for me, because . . . I was half expecting not to be able to finish it, but then I got my second wind, and I've been going strong on writing it for the past month or so and doubled the amount that I'd written before that - yaaay! So if you're interested in Royai, then keep an eye out for that in the next week or so, and if not, then I still have a bunch of drabbles for you.

**Fifteen: Childhood Lost**

For the sanity of all in the house, servants had tried to sew the Fuhrer's head back onto his body, but it wasn't the same. His ear seemed lop-sided, or his stuffing fell out and made him seem flatter. And every now and then the stitches would come undone, and in a macabre reminder of what had happened, the Fuhrer's head flopped to the side, and dropped down onto the floor below.

Even the black-haired brat being forced to buy her a new one did nothing to cheer up Princess, and she walked the halls mumbling to herself of vengeance.


	16. A Thinly Veiled Attempt At Passing Time

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Sixteen: A Thinly Veiled Attempt At Passing Time**

Once a small, angry child, jealous of the merest imbalance of attention, enraged at the tiniest slight, Olivier Milla Armstrong did her best to grow into a beautiful young woman–

And enrolled herself in the military the day she turned sixteen – with the correct permission forms having been signed by Father to allow a minor into military training.

Ever fond of making her own way, she put off the arms training required of new recruits, and relied on her easy skill with a blade to win her fights. It wasn't long until the talented Miss Armstrong rose in the ranks.


	17. The Closest of Siblings

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** And for today we have a special DOUBLE DRABBLE! Do you know why? No, you don't. It's because I tried to write the concept I had into a normal drabble but couldn't and it was too good to pass. So instead of just saying "I went over the limit a little!" I mixed around with it a bit, added another twenty or so words, and have it as 200 words instead of 100. So it's a multiple of 100 . . . That works XD

**Seventeen: The Closest of Siblings**

Gunshots in her ears couldn't make her quiver. Not her.

"If you can't hit me from there, why not come a little bit closer, eh!?" The roar echoed across the dead field, and a pale man in blue all but tackled her to the ground.

"Lieutenant-Colonel! Please don't bait the enemy – you're giving away our position!"

She glared at him. "Get up, Sergeant, and stop acting like a coward. If they come closer, I'd be able to slit them, neck to knees! Off in the distance like that, the best hit we have on them would be from Josephs, but they've shot him already. Do you want to take your chances?"

He looked at her, wide-eyed, and scrambled to his knees, so as to remain lower than the barricade. "No, miss– I mean, sir!"

"Then get your act together." She gritted her teeth together. "We're fighting a war – if my baby brother can play his part, then so can you."

A smiled flitted over his face – surprise that she even had a family. "You're fond of your brother?"

Olivier snorted. "I'm surprised the filthy beggar hasn't cracked under the pressure of being a State Alchemist yet. Now get to work."


	18. The Return of Darth Vader

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I almost thought that I might be somewhere else today and wouldn't be abel to post this. Luckily (and evidently), I'm not. I'm here, and I'm able to update both this and "Such is the Sport of Soccer" (which, if you like Royai, could be a good read). Not much else to say today. I have an assignment and a test on Monday, so let's just say you're lucky that these are already completed instead of having to wait for me to write them, because otherwise they wouldn't be up. Ahh, enjoy.

**Eighteen: The Return of Darth Vader**

She tossed her hair over one shoulder, and when the Fuhrer – with black hair and a moustache, not fuzzy brown fur – presented her with her new rank, she bowed gratefully, a short, sharp motion no deeper than necessary.

He grasped her hand warmly, and spoke words of encouragement – her efforts in the war were greatly appreciated, and the military was proud to have one such as her in its ranks – before returning to the podium to announce the next person and their promotion.

Five sets of "congratulations" later, she held back bubbling anger as one Roy Mustang was made Lieutenant-Colonel.


	19. Planning the CounterAttack

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Ugh. Bad day today. First, at our special Mother's Day church service, Mum had to leave early. Then, I have major issues with my brother that I need to sort out. Then, I have an assignment and a test tomorrow - _and_ the University's site chose to shut down today, just when I went to look and see what the assignment question was. I have finished the "Learning Journal" part of my assignment (of which the majority was complaining about how everything I'd learnt in Uni pointed towards my not wanting to be there) so I was already feeling adequately depressed when the site shut down. Now, because it's Mother's Day we don't have my Cell group on tonight (so everyone can be with their mothers - yeah, great lot of good that does me when I'm at Dad's this weekend), and because I and he both had to do Uni assignments, I didn't get to hang out with the friend I'm usually hanging out with on Sundays. Sorry for complaining, but . . . well, I'm just being an emo today. I'll most likely be fine by tomorrow afternoon and thanks for listening. Now to cheer you all up from my depressing day, I may as well finally let you read the drabble.

**Nineteen: Planning the Counter-Attack**

"Colonel Armstrong, you're supposed to oversee your soldiers' training."

"I am? When is that?"

"Next week, sir. They'll also be training with units twenty-two through thirty."

Hers was unit twenty-one. "Whose units are those?"

"Mine, Fossler's, Daendall's, Caraway's, and the others belong to Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang and his office."

Really? What a coincidence. "How long is training combined for?"

"The next four months, sir."

"Excellent. Is there any chance of officers sparring, too?"

"E-excuse me, sir?"

"Is there any chance of officers sparring?"

A confused pause. "I don't know. I suppose that we are allowed to, if we so choose."

"Good."


	20. The Cheshire Cat

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I'm nowhere near as emotional as I was yesterday, so don't worry, people. This here drabble (yes, I'm going to talk about the drabble instead of prattling on about my life!) is one of a few that I quite enjoyed. I've used this point to unleash my pent-up humour. Hopefully you'll get the "joke" too. It's not really a joke, but . . . I found it funny. I've probably got all these ideas of what is happening that I haven't adequately shown, but let's just say that it's not the greeting she expected - or wanted.

**Twenty: The Cheshire Cat**

Soldiers were in pairs or groups – or even just by themselves – at the various training areas with an officer watching over their progress. Whether they aimed at targets, worked as a team, or practiced their skills against one another, they were all engaged, and not watching the grounds around them.

And there he stood, to the side of the training grounds, watching his men obliviously. He didn't even see her coming. Totally unaware.

"Roy."

His head whipped around suddenly, dark eyes wide. Was that fear she could smell? Wait – he was grinning. _Stupid boy! You're supposed to be afraid!_

"Livvy!"


	21. How To Save Roy Mustang's Life

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, _this_ one is different! For a change, it's not from Olivier's point of view! But to be fair, it's still all about her - after all, this is "A Short Summary of the Life of Olivier Milla Armstrong" not "A Bunch of Drabbles About Anyone and Anything". Hmm . . . That second title sounds intriguing. If I ever start another group of drabbles, and it's not based around a certain character, I might use that name. So no stealing! It's mine:P

**Twenty-one: How To Save Roy Mustang's Life**

"_Please_, sir, don't call her that anymore," Havoc begged. He was on his knees beside his commanding officer's desk. "You're going to get us all _killed_."

"Sir," Hawkeye said, not missing a beat, "while I wouldn't go so far as to say the Colonel would kill us, it will be best in your interests to stop referring to her as 'Livvy'."

Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang sighed. "But she _likes_ it."

Both Lieutenants stopped in their tracks. How could he be so blind?

Finally, he sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine then. But she never used to have a problem with it."


	22. Safety in Numbers

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** No big notes today. I'm listening to random AMVs from cons (which are just making me want to go to one), and I have my piano lesson in a bit so I'm distracted and don't have a whole lot of time :P Still, enjoy.

**Twenty-two: Safety in Numbers**

She was already supervising her troops when he arrived. He looked more bored than usual, and she smirked inwardly. Maybe this was the day she'd be able to pull out her sword and lop off his head, as penance for murdering Fuhrer Sparkles.

"Two of my Lieutenants are making me stop calling you 'Livvy'," he said sulkily.

She blinked in surprise, and automatically looked over at the two blondes watching Roy and Olivier. When they noticed she had spotted them, they looked away quickly. Hmm. Maybe some of the people he commanded weren't just the same jerk that he was.


	23. New Tactics

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, I'm a few hours late with this one. But that's okay, I have it here now!! Erm . . . Well, I don't really have anything else to say. How boring of me. So enjoy the drabble!

**Twenty-three: New Tactics**

"Second Lieutenant Hawkeye."

The woman looked up in surprise, and snapped a salute when she saw who addressed her.

Olivier smiled. Roy hadn't passed down his buffoonery to those around him, then. What a relief – both for her, and for his subordinates. Olivier wouldn't want to act like him if her own life was at stake.

"Would you consider working with me?"

The Lieutenant seemed confused. "My place is with the Lieutenant-Colonel, sir."

Interesting. Roy hadn't yet disgusted his subordinates to the point of turning them away. Either that would come soon, or he had changed.

She'd ask again later.


	24. Still Relatively New Tactics

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, I'm even later today. I think that I just need to get used to the fact that there are things in life that get in the way of schedules. Like internet problems, for example. Also buying birthday presents, replying to emails, foruming and reading old stories that I never finished and never posted. I only have a few of those, and not a lot of ideas as to how to continue them, but I might give it a shot at some point. Who knows, eh?

**Twenty-four: Still Relatively New Tactics**

"No, I find that I'm happy where I am."

A second strike, then. Second Lieutenant Havoc gave her an apologetic smile and scratched the back of his head casually.

"I can see that you're a good commander," he continued, gesturing to her soldiers, "but Lieutenant-Colonel Mustang has my loyalties. I trust him."

How could anyone trust that monster? A cold-blooded killer of the worst sort. He was a fool, and thus she came to the conclusion that he wasn't worth her attention.

"How would you feel about a coffee together, though?"

"No thanks. I'm busy." She sniffed and whirled away.


	25. Insert Chapter Title Here

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Argh! No big notes - I'm just about to go out and won't be able to post this later, so posting it now. Thank you everyone for your wonderful reviews - I heart you all!!

**Twenty-five: -Insert Chapter Title Here-**

Although they had rejected her offer, Olivier continued to speak with the two other blondes anyway – maybe she felt at home with them, but without the annoyance of having to be related.

Thinking about relations, she wondered if that brother of hers had continued with the military. The last she had heard of him was that the war had gotten to him, and he had retreated back to the family house for some time. She had nodded sagely, knowing he would eventually, but now she wondered if he had returned and been stationed elsewhere. That would certainly explain his absence.


	26. Faulty Predictions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Yes, I know that my title for yesterday was a bit . . . erm . . . irrelevant. I was (as I said) in a rush, actually to get to a friend's birthday party, and so I didn't want to spend four minutes sitting and speculating over what I could possibly call it - and to be frank, I like that title. I've always planned on using it somewhere for something. You know what? I haven't even been able to go through and reply to my reviews for drabble twenty-five yet! I'll be there in a minute, but I hadn't posted my updates in my fanfiction section of the Royai forum (link in my profile), and I'm just posting yesterday's updates and today's updates there first, then I'll get to replying XD Ahh, I feel all out of order. Anyway, thank you for you continual support, and here's the next drabble!

**Twenty-six: Faulty Predictions**

"Livvy!"

She spun about, hand on the hilt of her sword, feet shifting into a defensive stance.

And stopped.

A great, hulking mass powered into her, and giant arms wrapped around her body, lifting her off her feet. Pink sparkles flashed before her eyes, and somehow she didn't think that it was a product of the sudden asphyxiation she was experiencing.

"_Down_," she gasped out.

With a barely restrained smile, the bodybuilder her brother had become – his toned body had obviously been worked upon since she last saw him – set her onto the floor.

"Good to see you again, sister."


	27. So This was It

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I'm actually getting close to the end of the drabbles I have written up . . . I might have mentioned it once or twice already, but now I desperately need to take the time to sit down and write out some more or otherwise I won't have enough to last past Friday. To be fair, we are getting further in plot and closer to the current time, but I think that I still have a few more in me. Maybe. Hopefully . . . Gyah!

**Twenty-seven: So This was It**

So this was it. The papers had been signed and the official response had come this afternoon. The office had been informed of the possibility, and now of the reality.

It was going to be different.

Olivier looked about the room that had been her office, shared with those under her command. Her desk had been cleared into one box of personal effects, now balanced on her hip. The men looked at her and smiled, saluting one last time.

So this was it. She was going to go north, and back into the battlefield, holding back Drachma from Fort Briggs.


	28. Welcome to Northern HQ

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I wrote one more, so now they'll last until Saturday, but currently I'm just trying to fill in time before a few events. I think that if I do it right, these will stop at either drabble number forty or fifty. Whatever it is it will be a multiple of five, because otherwise I wouldn't be able to stand the number. Me and my various neuroses aren't fun to be around when it comes to minor details.

**Twenty-eight: Welcome to Northern HQ**

Her first month. She knew she would start near the top, but Olivier didn't expect to be the third in command at Briggs, especially since the only war she had known was Ishbal. The two men above her looked old enough to be her father, and had been in at least two more wars than she had heard of. They ruled the fort with iron wills, and barked their orders crisply. Their very footsteps spoke of readiness for combat, and she had no doubt that Briggs was in a war-zone. She could feel it in every motion of the place.


	29. Overruled

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, I've got to apologise to the people who are reading "Such is the Sport of Soccer". I'm not able to get the chapter out today because I was expecting to be at Mum's house, but it's Dad's birthday, so I decided to stay here for an extra night. So I don't have the chapter here. Instead it will be out tomorrow (and so will the next chapter of "To Conquer or to Fall", so don't worry that that will be delayed). After that everything will be back on track. Oh, and yes these drabbles aren't as humour-based as they were before. I'm trying to think of some decent funny things to put in to relieve the monotony, but most of it's actually about battle and tactics now.

**Twenty-nine: Overruled**

"Send your men around the eastern side of the ridge, to meet the Drachmans before they reach our walls. Engage them in combat there, and maybe we'll be able to avoid fighting right at the fort."

"Wouldn't it be better to lie in wait for the Drachmans, and catch them by surprise? If we send out a few scouts, we can know when to suspect them, and be ready."

"But the Drachmans are prepared to fight, wherever it may be. The closer they are to Briggs, the readier they will be. Better to catch them while they're unprepared."

"Yes, sir."


	30. I Told You So

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, uh . . . I only have two more left after this, so, er . . . they might be slowing down a bit. I'm going to try to get up to forty, but they might not be coming out as fast, just because my brain is dead. Thank you to everyone for sticking around with me, though, and I'm so thankful for all of your encouragement!

**Thirty: I Told You So**

"Brigadier-General Armstong, the whole right flank has been wiped out – the Drachmans took them by surprise. They shot some down, but most of them were crushed! The Drachmans were pushing boulders down the mountain-side!"

She clucked her tongue in irritation; no time to mourn for those lost. With the very tactic she had suggested for their own soldiers – and that was brushed aside by one of the Generals – the Drachmans had just destroyed one third of her force. Although she'd have to continue with the set plan, Olivier would have to think quickly to keep the other two thirds alive.


	31. No Sweat

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Yeah, these ones aren't as light-hearted as the others from when she was younger. I think it would be a lot more battle-focussed at Briggs, seeing as they're the ones keeping Drachma from spilling into Amestris and taking the whole country over. I'm going to see if I can incorporate some less battle-focussed drabbles, but I'm stuck for ideas. We'll have to see. Thank you for sticking around this long :)

**Thirty-one: No Sweat**

"Brigadier-General Armstrong, congratulations on keeping back the Drachmans' attack."

"It had to be done."

-

"Brigadier-General Armstrong, we only lost twenty men, this time."

"Too many."

-

"Brigadier-General Armstrong, the men noticed Drachman spies in the mountains to the north."

"Have Dayen send scouts to observe. Engage them only where necessary."

-

"Brigadier-General Armstrong, the Drachman army has mobilised – they're heading east."

"About time. Send twenty men to follow them at a distance and make sure that they aren't trying some trick."

-

Five months into the post, Olivier was laughing – all she needed here was instincts and common sense.


	32. Cutthroat Ambition

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Stupid exams are coming up. We've started looking at exam questions in class, and have to know how to answer them. Most of them seem to be common sense sort of things, but there's also one or two that you actually need to know something for. Dang.

**Thirty-two: Cutthroat Ambition**

After co-commanding Briggs for so long, Olivier's face did not change when she was informed that the more reckless of the two Brigadier-Generals had fallen in battle. Instead, she nodded coldly, having expected the news to come some day.

The other, larger Brigadier-General had eyed her warily and twirled his moustache around a finger. Whether or not he had also expected it to happen was a mystery, but it was clear that her plain acceptance unnerved him. With a nervous smile he took in the hand resting on the hilt of her sword and sent her out of the room.


	33. Yes Ma'am

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Erm . . . so I disappeared off the face of the internet for a day and a half. Everyone has their breaks sometimes. Actually, to tell you the truth, I realised the stupidly large amount of time I was on the internet, and I really should be doing other things. Like not ignoring my family. So while I will still be around, I'm not going to be computering as much, and so it's possible I won't be updating as much. But guess what I did today, people! I went through and wrote out the rest of the drabbles! So now I know for a fact that these are going to finish at number forty (which is only a week away, when you think about it). Until then, here's the next one:

**Thirty-three: "Yes, Ma'am"**

Olivier blinked in confusion as the soldier walked away to fulfil her order. She felt… different. Confused, almost. No – Brigadier-General Armstrong couldn't possibly be confused. She was an intelligent woman, and knew exactly where she stood. But that was it.

She'd become so used to having soldiers call her "Sir" that it became commonplace. Assuming that it was normal for all officers to be referred to in that manner, she hadn't thought twice about it – but she was a woman after all.

A woman very near to dominating a world of men. Her lips crept up into a haughty smile.


	34. Treacherous Bear

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Well, this one was a bit of hard work. I've had a double-drabble, and when this was longer than a normal one I tried to make it one, too . . . but then I ended up with forty words too many, so I expanded a little to make it a triple-drabble. This time fifty words too many. I had to work on it a bit, and ended up cutting down to three-hundred, so here we have a triple drabble after all :D Enjoy!

**Thirty-four: Treacherous Bear**

A snake of fire slithered over fresh snow, the white powder hissing and melting in its trail. It spun into a tight ring, the orange blaze leaping higher than should have been possible. Raising further into the air, it seemed the tips of each flame met and melded overhead to form a dome over a very small scrap of fluff. Upon closer observation the scrap was half buried in snow that should have melted in the heat. It beckoned her.

Sitting underneath the dome of fire, she felt the heat upon her shoulders and the cold of the snow on her legs. The two temperatures produced in her the queasiness only fever could bring.

And yet the scrap still beckoned.

Ignoring the icy ache of her bare fingers, she dug frantically through to reach the mystery awaiting her. Somehow, she knew that she must uncover it, and yet it would bring upon her the destruction she feared.

She stopped digging.

Stiff bits of fur stuck out at odd angles, and claws protruded from small paws. The headless body seemed to stare with contempt. She jerked away as it leapt up to attack her, claws rending three distinct marks over her face. Scrambling back, she tried to defend herself, not noticing her blood dripping onto snow.

The heat on her back renewed and she turned momentarily to see that she had almost jumped into the wall of fire. Pushing her attacker away, she tried to return to the centre of the dome where she was less likely to burn herself. There was a creak above her – although she did not know what made the noise – and she looked up, barely able to pull her arms over her face before the dome of fire collapsed on her.

Olivier woke up gasping. "Sparkles!"


	35. Communication Established

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** I'm hungry. No really, I am. And what's the bet that dinner won't be ready for another two hours? Ah well. I have an assignment due in two days that I completely forgot about, so if I don't post tomorrow that's what I'm working on. I feel so slack. I really don't know how I could forget about something to this point, but then again the last assignment that I forgot for this long I ended up doing better with than all of the others in that subject . . . I think I might work better with pressure, but I'm not willing to purposefully put that to the test. Take my advice and _do your work early_. That way you can 'relax' until you need to hand it in.

**Thirty-five: Communication Established**

The swoops and swirls on the front of the envelope repulsed her. She opened the envelope delicately, trying not to handle it too much lest the attitude of the front side rub off onto her somehow.

She unfolded the note uneasily, trying not to shudder when the writing on the inside was just as charmingly formed. She herself couldn't name a reason as to why the writing style seemed so repulsive, instead preferring her own business-like slanted hand for its familiarity.

_Dear Sister,_ the letter began. The moment she was finished, it was properly disposed of in the nearest bin.


	36. Recapitulated Capitulation

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Sorry that I didn't manage to post yesterday. On the bright side, I did manage to finish my assignment . . . at 10:30pm last night. Phew! I was going to try to post this drabble then, but ffn was being strange - it let me reply to reviews, but not do anything else. I couldn't look at profiles, I couldn't read other people's stories, I couldn't update my own stories. How sad. So I missed a day for posting. I think I've only missed one or two before this, so at least it doesn't put me too far behind 'schedule'. Anyway, here's the next one! Enjoy!

**Thirty-six: Recapitulated Capitulation**

"Brigadier-General, the Drachmans are retreating."

Olivier looked up with a frown. "Yes, yes – I've already been told," she said, waving the messenger off.

"No, ma'am. Not from the battle – from the war!" The man looked at her wide-eyed, gauging her reaction.

"From the war?" She crossed one leg over the other and scratched thoughtfully at the side of her head. "Have we received their emissary? Are we to announce terms for their surrender?"

"No, ma'am. This is the freshest news, and we expect an emissary within hours. If no one comes, the Major-General has ordered we press on as before."


	37. Paperwork Bores Olivier Too

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Real life is so nice. I've spent the whole day with my Mum - library, lunch, grocery shopping, watching a movie, mending clothes, having dinner, another movie . . . Really, I think I've spent enough time with the woman for today! No, I'm just kidding. I love my Mum. I'm trying to hang out with her a lot now, because it's possible - _possible, not definite_ - that she'll be going to live overseas soon, and then I won't be able to hug her and go to the library with her and everything. So I'm doing what I can now to get all of those snuggly moments in. I'm such a baby.

**Thirty-seven: Paperwork Bores Olivier Too (But She Still Gets The Job Done)**

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Olivier yawned, glaring up at the clock ticking away. With her left hand she smothered her yawn, glad that she had an office to herself and that no one else was here to see her moment of weakness; with her right hand she scrawled away at a form requesting more food supplies for the Briggs troops – they had been complaining recently, and they needed to be well fed in case the Drachmans broke their terms of surrender.

It seemed an hour before Major Miles stepped into the office and gave her his analysis of the situation.


	38. Enter the Halfmetal Shrimp

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Erm . . . you didn't see anything. I didn't forget to post one yesterday. Youre all just very confused, that's all. Ah, alright - I'm in denial. I was going to post it at about 3pm, but then my brother wanted to leave for Dad's house, so we got our stuff ready and started going, and then a friend messaged me to ask if I wanted to come over, so I did, and . . . well . . . -cough- got home at 3:30am. So I was sort of creeping into the house enough as it was, and didn't really want to try turning on the computer, too. Thank you for you patience, though, and think of it this way: it means that the end isn't coming quite so soon! How sad, though. Only two more after this one :( Thank you everyone for your lovely reviews :3 Look! I've almost reached two hundred!

**Thirty-eight: Enter the Halfmetal Shrimp**

Another letter. Thankfully, this time the hand on the front was smaller and less . . . Alex-esque. Believing it to be a matter of importance, Olivier readied her reply immediately.

_Second Lieutenant Hawkeye,_

_If I were You I believe I would find it in Myself to Utilise whichever Skills I had and Separate His Head From His Body. As his Aide, this may seem Insubordination, but really appears to have The Best Result._

_As for The Child He's Convinced to Become an Alchemist – warn him away with all of Your Power. None should Grow under the Influence of That Monster._

_Brigadier-General Armstrong._


	39. Queen of the Castle

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** Whoops - I almost forgot to update this because I was updating my deviantArt account for the first time in AGES. I haven't written any decent poetry in ages, and I haven't gone through my latest photos to weed out the art-worthy ones, but I fixed an old photo into a new ID, which I'm happy with. For anyone who's interested, my username on deviantArt is the same as on here. I don't really have any fanart in my gallery (I think I might have one or two pictures of Roy or Riza somewhere), but I do have one pencil-drawn picture of Addy for anyone who's interested, and there's always my other writing to look at.

**Thirty-nine: Queen of the Castle**

She was on top of the world. There was no other way that she could possibly describe the sensation, really; floating, spinning, spiralling over the fort without a worry in her mind. Shivers of pleasure ran down her spine when grown men jumped to their feet, hands to their heads in salute just because she walked by. Oh no, Olivier Milla Armstrong was not on a rampage – she was too amused to be angry.

A soldier spun around a little later than his workmates, and snapped a quick salute. "Brigiadier-General!"

A cat-like grin spread across her face. "That's Major-General, soldier."


	40. Inconclusive Conclusions

**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA

**Notes:** This one's out a little later than my other story, because I didn't have my title at the house I was at. But it's okay because I've found it now. How sad . . . The very last drabble. I'll miss you all!

**Forty: Inconclusive Conclusions**

To tell you the truth, she had been warned. She had been told the boy was under Mustang's command, and that alone should have warned her that he'd try to come and ruin her life some day. Well, maybe not ruin – she didn't know that for a fact yet, although she wasn't willing to put it to the test.

Gloved hands clenched over the hilt of her sword, and when her soldiers found the letter on the boy – and his pet suit of armour (?) – she gritted her teeth. Just because Alex trusted them didn't mean that she had to.

* * *

_I'd like to thank all of my lovely reviewers for their words of encouragement and for helping me to get over two-hundred reviews for the first time ever! I'm glad you liked this collection, and I hope that now you can all see that Olivier pwns all and that if the world was just and right, the real Fuhrer would be a certain fuzzy, sparkly individual. So thank you:_

_Moomoogirl1, Legendary Chimera, Bizzy, winglessfairy25, causmicfire, IdiotsApprentice, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Breion, Griselda Banks, Lennounetteuh, Oblivioneclipse, White Butterfly, Dreams - United, Your favourite plushie, Annethy, Sophie1221, lin, hiya24, i'llwait, Nilmiel and Kenya_

_Much love to you all, and I hope to see you around my other stories!_

_-Dai_


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